I Heart Post Scripts

PS - Happy New Year
PPS - Happy Christmas last week
PPPS - I love post scripts. A lot.

The Red Stripes

I have this really great story about New Year's Day but you'll have to wait a day for that as I haven't yet downloaded the pictures from the evening to spice up that entry.

What I do have to write about is something that came up on New Year's Eve. Meggie and I were standing at the bar, just talking. Talking the way people do. It's New Year's Eve, it's starting out slowly, but I'm with Meggie and we always have fun. So we're chatting when I completely interrupt her to comment on the fact that a driver's license with a red stripe lands on the bar. A red stripe. A red stripe means that the person who tossed that license onto the bar is a recent 21-year-old. RECENT. As in not 8.5 years ago like me. My license with the red stripe is hanging out somewhere in San Francisco without me, probably having the time of its life at whatever bar I dropped it at. I loved that license. The photo of me as a 16 year-old, beaming with my newfound legal driving capabilities, was lost forever. When I finally got my new license, I had taken a bad bad photo and the red stripe was gone. They also upped my weight when I didn't ask them to but that's a story for another time. Right now, I'm lamenting my Red Stripe License.

Cheers to Red Stripe Licenses. This one gets no exclamation point because I'm going to be 30 this year, and the next time I'll see a Red Stripe License my kid will have one. Ouchie.

Things That Are Rad, Chapter 2

'Stache contests (for maximum 'stacheness, click here and here)
Puffy down vests
Christmas
New Year's
Vacation
Comfortable heels
Tons of blankets on a cold night
DVR
Parties
Tahoe
Giving presents
Paying for a stranger's toll
Sunshine
Irons that shut themselves off
Hotels

To go out, or not to go out. That is the question.

Monday Night Football.
Skankhouse.
Good company.
Cobb salad.
Mozzarella sticks.
Lemon drops.
Beer battered onion rings.
Patriots fans galore.
All in all, an awesome Monday.

It is interesting though that when you go out on a Friday, the weekend seems to be extra long. When you go out on a Monday, it's the same effect, but the problem is that it's a MONDAY. No sleeping in on Tuesday. No big plans for a Tuesday night. Tuesday does not equal Saturday. Ever. Well, unless you're unemployed I guess.

Cheers to MNF and laughter at the Skankhouse!

New Starts

Tomorrow, my partner in crime, Cornbread, makes her debut into the WoW (that means World of Wine for those who haven't read my very first blog posting).

I just want to say that I am so proud of her - I know how much time, dedication, frustration, disappointment, excitement and craziness surrounds the job hunt. She powered through, with encouragement from all sides, and tomorrow is the start of her new life in Wine Country.

According to my first few posts, I was starry-eyed for soooo long, and I miss that feeling. I still love my job, though with days like today, I long for my eyes to go starry. Maybe I was so starry-eyed because I drank a lot of wine.........ok, no. I know it was because I had worked my bum off for a chance to work in wine, and I had finally accomplished that. I hope that Cornbread remembers her first month; the way it feels when you walk through the doors on that first day, not sure if you're going to get along with coworkers, or that you're wearing the wrong thing, but then realizing that everything worked out - your coworkers are awesome and your clothes didn't matter. I hope she remembers for a long time the way it sounds when you tell people you work for a winery - their reaction and your passion when you explain what you do. I know she'll remember it - I do, constantly.

Cheers to getting this far - you've earned it! An extra CHEERS for doing what we love, day in, day out, and sharing those experiences everyday.

Things That Are NOT Rad, Chapter 1

False advertising
Being a sucker for false advertising
Beans
A rock in my shoe
Mashed potatoes
When a pen runs out of ink
Doing dishes
Gardening
Car problems
Doing dishes
Wet socks
Bad music
Doing dishes

Soccer Mom? I Think Not.

Ok, maybe a little. Unfortunately, I have turned into what some may call a soccer mom. I know it's a little premature, considering that I'm neither a mom, nor do I have anything to do with soccer these days. I do, however, drive the right car for a cool and sporty mom of 2007:


...and on Sunday, I bought one of these:



What's so funny about both of these is that 1) my first crock pot meal sucked and 2) I'm not all that into my car.

Details on 1:
My dinner really, really did suck. Now when I say I can't cook, I mean I can't cook....not even in something as simple as a crock pot. The chicken was dry, the rice was mush as were the beans. How can you screw up a crock pot meal? I'm not really sure, but given the lack of my cooking skills, I did it. I am such a bad cook that even my crock pot won't work with me. I will not surrender to the power of the crock just yet, but I vow to understand it's power and use it to my advantage.

Details on 2:
I thought I was being so practical when I bought my Murano (see post about my new fridge), and I was. The thing rocks in a lot of ways. On the other hand, it is anything but sexy. At my age, the ripe old age of 29, I need sexy. I need a head-turner. I need a wind-through-the-hair, five-speed, turbo-charged wonder car that makes my heart race and head spin, like one of these:


I also need a bit more spice in my life...and by spice I don't mean basil and oregano (reminder: I can't cook.) I need to be eating gourmet meals:


...with a lovely dinner companion, like:


or:


or:


or:



It's not quite New Year's, but I am making a resolution that I will spice up my life...I'll throw caution into the wind and get a sports car, be excited and thrilled to meet new people, go on more dates, eat gourmet food, put on some heels and strut the new me. I swear on my life that I will not be her:


Not yet, anyway.

Cheers to being thrilled!

Things That Are Rad, Chapter 1

Fuzzy socks
Red wine on a cold day
Fireworks
Dancing
Ironing a shirt into utter crispness (ok, I'm only domestical right here, right now)
Finishing a project
The ribs at The Grill
Red wine on a warm day
Meeting new people
Karaoke at Rita's
Throwing parties
5-minute speed networking
Photography
Toasts (and toast of course)
Road trips
The beach
Dessert

Cheers to things that are rad!

Me, Myself, and My Dad

My dad can fix anything. Anything. My dad likes wine. I don't think he cares so much what it is, just that it's red and comes in a wine bottle. Now that I am basically a wine pimp, I give my dad wine for helping me with house stuff. Like putting a fridge in the back of my car.


If anyone has wondered what my dad looks like, here are he and my mom last June when we went to Costa Rica:




If you wanted to know what my dad looked like maybe 15 years ago, it may have been something like this:


Ok, fine. That's me having fun at the Halloween store. It was just too funny to keep under wraps, and though I know that most of the peeps who read my blog have seen these pics, they're still funny. Really funny. And a little scary.


Cheers to my dad!

Props to the Murano

As much as I want a new car, I do have to give mad props to the one I have. I bought a 2004 Nissan Murano last December in an effort to be practical. Working on the condo and then the house allowed me to justify the extra space in a crossover SUV. At the time, I had wanted to get a tiny sports car, manual, convertible, basically as impractical as possible, then also get a $3k used SUV for working on the house. I regret not making that decision because one year later, I am now looking to get that impractical little fun on wheels with a back up work horse.

That said, my car is pretty cool. It has a bumpin sound system, is pretty zippy, has tons and tons of leg room, fits backerboard perfectly in the back, and, I found out yesterday, can hold a refrigerator. Yep, a refrigerator. I went to Best Buy, saw an open item fridge, decided to get it (it was a steal), and then in the rain, we loaded into the back of my car. A Mini just can't brag about something like that.




Cheers to my Murano (for now)!

Hilarious.

When I was messin' with my profile (he started it), I decided to update my profile. I didn't write much, but blogger has this cool feature that asks you random questions and you answer them. I know what you're thinking on that one, when a question is asked, usually someone answers it. Thanks, Ms. Obvious. Anyway, this is the random question I received, and the answer I gave. I just think I'm so flippin' funny, that I had to post it on my main blog and not leave it buried in my profile for no one to see.

You can punch a hole in an apple using a straw. How do you think that makes your milkshake feel?

I think my milkshake is ok with it because it brings all the boys to the yard.

Cheers to my milkshake and whatever that means!

Reason #73525183.7 That I Need a Guy

I just spent the last FIFTEEN MINUTES trying to open a teeny jar of Classico pesto sauce & spread for the pasta salad I volunteered to make for the baby shower at work tomorrow. I tried the bang on the lid to break the seal trick. I slammed the bottom of the jar with the heel of my hand trick. I busted out the blue rubber glove I use for washing dishes* trick. Nothing. Nada. Not even a budge! I tried them all once more. After the last rubber glove try, I went back at it bare-handed. With red, raw fingers and sore hands, it popped open and I was able to retrieve the delicious pesto sauce that my pasta was craving. I loosened it for me.

Cheers to FINALLY opening the pesto! Uncheers to not having a guy to do that crap for me.

*I HATE washing dishes. Hate it. Hate it more than ironing all of my clothes and textiles, including socks, undies, towels and sheets. Hate it. That's all.

Really? A Post-It?

I thought I'd continue with the Wine & Food Adventure, but I had to blog about something I saw today that leaves me with a true shocked face. Someone TYPED a Post-It. I saw it with my own eyes.

1. Doesn't that defeat the purpose of a Post-It's true function? Correct me if I'm wrong, but a Post-It was designed for scribbling - with your hand - a quick note with a pen. This is a way to remind yourself to take care of something, or to let someone else know where you are, when you'll be back, or what have you. It's short, sweet, and informal. Ok, sometimes it's not sweet - like when Carrie was broken up with by Post-It on Sex & the City.

2. Who uses a typewriter?!? With the invention of the personal computer, aka PC, typing a quick note via email not only saves yellow Post-It paper, but can also be received on Crackberries and other smartphones immediately. Of course, this option isn't nearly as funny.

I could take a photo, by camera phone, of the typed Post-It and send it to the intended recipients so that they receive it instantly on their Crackberries and know that they need to reply, but that's a waste of camera phone text money and time. Granted, I already did waste my money sending myself two photos using my camera phone just for this blog entry. It was worth every penny.

Cheers to the joy that a typed Post-It has brought into my life!

The Affair That Wine & Food Had This Weekend - Part I

The Wine & Food Affair. This event is my favorite of the Wine Road events - wine, food, wine, food. My mouth loves it, my waistline hates it, but that's a separate blog entry. My girls and I headed to Healdsburg for a weekend of amazing wines paired with delicious food. We paid a whopping $60 for this event this year, and expected great things...

This isn't a pic from the weekend, but man, looks good eh? Maria Manso restaurant in San Rafael. If you're curious.

Winery 1: J
We usually end at J, but decided to change it up a little this time. Guess what? Not impressed. Not even a little. Normally my friend A loves J, but nothing jumped out at even her! The Pinot was boring, the sparkling was dry (how I like it if I'll ever drink sparkling again) but unappealing, and my girls said that the Chard was just bad. The food portions were small and unappetizing.

Winery 2: Rodney Strong
Walking over to Rodney from J, up the stairs, we followed the signs and I get carded. Carded. On the Wine Road. Should I be flattered since I'm almost 30? Maybe. Was I? No. The pretentiousness that we never find in the Russian River/Alexander Valley/Healdsburg area wineries was too apparent for the first hour. It was discouraging. Extremely. The first wine we had was great - an '05 Reserve Cab. Yum. Paired with the smallest piece of steak on the ittiest piece of bread with the tiniest dollop of cheesy goodness, the wines were good. Good, but not great. They moved you too quickly from wine station to wine station, so fast that you didn't even have time to down the first taste before being moved along to the next one.

Our thinking at this point: J & Rodney Strong need event planners and FRIENDLY customer service training for their staff. Like all great events, when they get too big, they lose the fun! Think Halloween in the Castro. Think New Years in Tahoe. We hoped for the best on the way to the next round.

Cheers to the first hour of Saturday! Cheers to more wine reviews (finally)...coming soon!

Ahhhh The End of an Era. Ok, Weekend.

It's Sunday night, yet again, entering into my life with all those "shoulda's" that I was supposed to get to today. Should have mowed the lawn. Should have done more laundry* (funny story here, see below). Should have put away clothes. Should have cleaned the house. Big time. But no, Sunday night arrived, I needed to eat, and there it stands. I also needed to watch Thursday's Office because I can't live without some little Michaelisms.


*Funny story (funny possibly just to me, but so typical of my brain lately, I had to share): So I have one scoop of Gain left. As everyone knows, Gain is possibly one the best smells on the planet. I turn on the washing machine. I put in my last scoop of Gain. I shut the lid to adjust the temperature. I start making nachos. I'm multitasking and not doing it well. After some email checking, nacho checking, more internet surfing, nacho checking, I realize that I just did a load of laundry with no actual laundry in it. Yep, a full washing machine cycle of imaginary laundry. Eco-police? Arrest me now.


Friday night I headed into SF to meet up with J-Rock and her sidekick Blog Master G, Rockstars of the East, at Thirsty Bear, my long lost friend with the vanilla beer. It's always so much fun to see them and their CA posse - That's Hot Enoch and Funk Master P, brother of Blog Master G and new blogger-extraordinaire.


Sacto was in the cards for Saturday and Sunday - wedding dress shopping with Kellogg and her mom. I think K decided on a dress which was a feat in and of itself - choices, choices choices. I think this pictures tells all:

Did she buy that beautiful headress, you may be wondering? You'll have to wait until May to find out. I don't want to spoil the surprise for her fiance.

Cheers to wedding dresses I mean bridal gowns and the Rockstars of the East!!

The Mobile Tasting Room

Last Friday was my good friend's 50th birthday. We enjoyed an awesome dinner at Arrivederci in San Rafael, one of my favorite places to eat. The atmosphere buzzes, the food is delicious, the service impeccable. Being that I work in the industry, I arrive with a case of wine, sort of a given these days. Sidenote - who would have ever thought that *that* would be me...?

Anyway, I brought a plethora of vino to choose from, from Pinot Grigio to Cab and everything inbetween. I knew there'd be an eclectic group of folks there, so I wanted to be sure everyone was happy - and they were. In addition to my box o' wine, and not the 3 liter kind, others had graciously brought some as well. In the spotlight was a 1999 Trefethen Cabernet Sauvignon that melted in my mouth, as smooth and silky as a dark chocolate truffle but with enough kick at the end to keep life interesting. I thoroughly enjoyed the dance off on my palate. PS - when you work "in the industry" you use words like "palate" a little too often. It's in the vocabulary toolbox to help make you sound WineSmart.

With a surprise visit from her sister and 20 of her closest friends enjoying her big day with her, she beamed like she was turning 21 all over again. Ok, maybe 22.

Cheers to C's 50th!

The Crazy Thursday

I haven't yet written about the party-hopping Thursday night a couple of weeks ago. We started that week insanely busy with work because our team had flown in for a 3 day meeting. As much as I hate sitting in a grey conference room that lacks windows or normal temperatures, I learned so much! But I digress...this post is about parties not work.


We headed from work to a pouring at the Culinary Institute, then from there, to the Chandon Pink Party. I hadn't had the pleasure of attending a Chandon Pink Party to date, so this was big for me. Decked in boas and pink eyelashes, we danced our way to the bar for some pink champagne and then danced our way to the dance floor. This place was CRAZY! I absolutely loved it. They need to do that every week. Ok, they used to but had to shut it down because of fights. What is WITH people?? Anyway, after we danced the night almost away until 11pm, we headed to Ana's to top off the debauchery. Yeah, I'm lying, there really wasn't any debauchery. Imagine a pink punk wig, those eyelashes that made me feel invisible (see previous post about Snuffleupagus), and a couple of pink boas. And lots of champagne. No need to imagine...












Wenis and I at Ana's


There's a reason I don't drink champagne...I remembered that reason early Friday morning when I had to head into work.

Last Saturday, to keep the pink going, we did the Walk of Hope. It was a great day in the city, warm and clear, and we walked our tails off on the walk, then the trek down Market for some shopping. Still wearing our Walk of Hope shirts, we went into stores, and people actually congratulated us for doing the walk! First of all, I didn't think SF people were THAT nice, and second, in the grand scheme of things, all we did was walk. I guess every little bit counts, and I am happy to have participated in Walking for Hope.

Cheers to pink everything!

Interesting Driving Thought

As I was driving to a work dinner this evening, I was thinking, wow, I need to get my eyebrows did. Badly. Then I thought, I have whacked eyebrows - I think I'll blog about that. Then I realized that I have blogged about my eyebrows before and that's just weird, creepy OCD. Then my crazy train of thought went to this.........

I have Big Bird's height and curiosity.
I have Cookie Monster's love of all that is sugar. C is for cookie that's good enough for me....
I have Oscar the Grouch's realism.
I have Snuffleupagus' invisible qualities, like when I wear costume items.
I have Ernie's sense of humor.
I have Miss Piggy's love of shoes and things that sparkle.
I have Animal's passion.
I have Kermit's sarcasm and the ability to burst into song.
And of course, I have Bert's eyebrows.

Cheers to the Muppets - whether they are on Sesame Street or The Muppets - and all that they encompass!

Surprise!

Big shocker of the day - my arm hurts. Monday, I saw an orthopedic surgeon whose main job in life is to torture poor souls like myself. In April of 2002, I was snowboarding with Kellogg. We were getting off the lift at Death Drop 2000 (for those who don't know this run at Heavenly, it's also known as Patsy's Run on the California side). It was warm - tshirt weather - and we were already sunburned and scraped up from the ice. Now, being the hardcore snowboarder that I am (read as: I suck), we decided to do one more run and then head down for some sunscreen. As all skiers and snowboarders know, "one more run" is a cursed statement. I got off the lift on a board without a stomp pad, my foot slipped, and I slammed onto the ground. There is a long story after that that includes a trip to the clinic in NV, followed by many years of pain, with some stuff inbetween. In any event, yes, my arm hurts. This doctor guy, aka torture man, gave me two shots in my shoulder. TWO SHOTS. Yes, I almost pssed out. Yes, I almost passed out again. He sent me home with an MRI referral (another thing I hate), physical therapy and a date to talk about surgery. Fun fun fun till daddy takes the t-bird awaaaaaay.

This morning, just like I always do, I got up and headed into the shower so as not to offend my coworkers with Dirty Megan. I proceeded to almost pass out. Whatever if going on with me is sorta scaring me. According to WebMD, I have MS, diabetes, heat exhaustion and a mild stroke. I should get those checked out.

Cheers to...um, well, nothing, because I hate doctor stuff.

Hm.

It has been a chaotic week in the lives of people I'm close to...bad car accidents, a family feud and not the fun-TV-game-show kind, deaths of close friends...It's been a week to reflect. I am grateful for what I have, who I have, where I am.

On this gloomy day in October, I cried at work. Linked to from one of my new favorite blogs , I read an article about Officer Mark Daily written by Christopher Hitchens, in Vanity Fair. I haven't been that moved by an article in quite some time. I don't have many words to express how I feel about this. With emotions ranging from deep sadness and an overwhelming sense of loss for someone I didn't know, to anger over the reasons we have taken it upon ourselves to "fix" other countries, to confusion about my actual stance on this war, I sit here and think. I think about how my brother, Brandolian, was gung ho about joining the Army after high school, right before we declared war. I had very selfish reasons for his not going, then with the timing of when we went into Iraq, Brandolian decided to move to San Luis Obispo instead. I was overly thankful for his decision - I can't imagine losing him in the way that Officer Mark Daily's family lost their son, husband, and brother. I want to thank Officer Daily for serving our country, for giving his life for what he believed in.

Cheers to everyone in my life!